William Cowper

Sonnet V. (Translated From Milton) - Poem by William Cowper

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Lady! It cannot be, but that thine eyesMust be my sun, such radiance they displayAnd strike me ev'n as Phoebus him, whose wayThrough torrid Libya's sandy desert lies.Meantime, on that side steamy vapours rise Where most I suffer. Of what kind are they,New as to me they are, I cannot say,But deem them, in the Lover's language--sighs.Some, though with pain, my bosom close conceals,Which, if in part escaping thence, they tend To soften thine, they coldness soon congeals.While others to my tearful eyes ascend,Whence my sad nights in show'rs are ever drown'd,'Till my Aurora comes, her brow with roses bound.